Just a number
by Chaotic Ivory
Summary: Thoughts of the one that's just number, nothing more.


**Just a number**

I slowly open my eyelids, allowing light to penetrate in my eyes.

A boy.

A boy?

No. I'm not a boy any more.

I suffer?

No, not even that. I'm indifferent to reality, that's all.

Alone. I'm left alone. For choice, I've been free to choose. I could as well follow my half, the one I've been always with. My sister. Despite this, I hadn't do it. I prefer staying left to myself, rather than blending with those people. They had been my enemies, but nothing count for any more. Now I'm alone. But I've always been. People are evil. I have been wicked. But unlike people... that judge. Friends?... I've heard something about, just from that guy with odd hair... that I had to kill... but I have never believed in it. I don't believe in friends. Friends are people and people... are evil. I have never been able to trust anybody, I have always counted on myself.

Feelings? I should have had some once, but now I can't remember. I cannot do it. However I've had a lot of fun that time when, with my sister and that strange android, we had stolen that small van. I liked cars, I liked driving. There were million of other things that I loved to do... but now... now nothing has more importance. I had been interested in fight, to duel against those strong enemies. I had feel amused, various and strange exciting sensations... But how can I feel sensations, I... I?

Hate. One feeling of deep hate lives in me. And I am feeling it, indeed. So I can feel these sensations. What are they...? Why I can't perceive them fully...? It's because of that damned bastard... if I could have him in front of me, I would kill him another thousand and thousand times. Yes it is hate. That crazy man that has changed me in what I am. He'd steal me memories, life, giving me what? Only an empty existence that I am not able to understand. I don't want to feel as I feel now... damn, I don't want! But what can I do? Maybe commit suicide...? No, I wouldn't never do it. It's the worst way to die. Killed by myself... by my doubts... by my fears. No.

How much I want to grab myself desperatly to a memory... but which one?... I haven't memories... Neither dreams. I cannot have dreams. Things I cannot do are many. Too many. A memory... I would give all for having a memory... as one of those stupid humans. Stupid?... no, lucky people. Just visionary, lucky people. Someone believe to be happy, but they don't realize that everyone hides a demon always alive in themselves, ready to betray them, to run through their heart.

And a dream...? What is it?... for me, just one word. I have never had a dream... one of those things for which people would do anything to make it true. One thing for what it's worth to be alive. An important thing... once I have had it... perhaps...

A tear... where does tears come from...? Why do tears spring up? What do they mean? Joy or pain. Joy? Pain? Deep feelings that make tears born. I had never cried... probably once, when I was child. But who could know it?

I'm just tired to drag myself without goal and reason everywhere. It seems that darkness wrap me when the night comes down and don't leave me not even with the warmest sun. That around to me there is a black halo from which I cannot be ever separated. And fall in a hidden abyss without aim, that nobody can notice, and therefore, run to help me... but, after all, do I want help? No. I just want to remain alone and continue to fall. In the pain. In what remains of me... by now I'm resign. I have fought too much to remain what I was but... I had lost myself for a long time. What use is in fighting until the spirit is torn if I have no spirit? But what is the spirit? One thing too difficult to explain, and I don't want to know. I don't.

The only thing that I wish is closing my eyes and sleeping forever. Or perhaps simply returning back to not being what I am. However I was able to notice girls' glances, that observe me. Delicate features, pretty nose, long hair and of an intense black. And then my icy eyes. Strong ice. I know that when I watch people, my look hasn't expression. Strange... but once my looks were not like that. I'm sure of it... but how I know it? Maybe I feel it into my heart... but which heart? Do I have an heart? When I close my eyes and I remain in silence I feel a heartbeat. A regular heartbeat. Is maybe this the heart?

I close again my eyes with a sigh and ask myself another time: who I am?

The answer is always the same.

Just a number. 17.


End file.
